


Fire and Dust

by Anonymous



Category: Poldark - All Media Types, Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: M/M, Sibling Incest, alternative universe, ancient au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 21:14:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11859798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: This is a gift-story for DarkHawkFlying. Thank you for many many many thousands of words of beautiful stories. Please never stop writing.P.S. There's a brief mention of sibling incest! *runs and hides*





	Fire and Dust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My_Trex_has_fleas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/gifts).



> This is a gift-story for DarkHawkFlying. Thank you for many many many thousands of words of beautiful stories. Please never stop writing.
> 
> P.S. There's a brief mention of sibling incest! *runs and hides*

Ross didn’t feel the first of the tremors.

Like most Romans, he was not a morning person and the remote town he was currently staying in certainly wasn’t going to change his habits. He’d only been in Pompeii three days and the overseer in him could already see the rifeness of corruption and mismanagement running in the city. Although they did have decent whores at least, Ross reflected.

He still remembered the blond prostitute who nonchalantly approached him in the baths shortly after his arrival and started washing his back for him.

He looked like he didn’t belong here - with his striking blue eyes he might have been one of the Northern people, and just as wild and bold.

The service then vastly improved, until all Ross remembered was sitting half-submerged in the hot water and the feeling of a tight ass rising and falling rhythmically on his cock while clever hands massaged and scraped fragrant oil along his stomach, chest and arms. He didn’t even protest when Ross pinned his hips in place so he could buck up violently and come deep inside that impossible heat.

Ross had fucked his way through 3 servants since then trying to forget the blond – it was dangerous to get attached to the paid services of a single man. He was rich, but he wasn’t _that_ rich, and he had other expenses in the city.

 

* * *

 

For Jim it started, like always, with a vision in his dream. Fire and stone, coming down onto the city like a deluge of death. He saw the Roman from last night, commander of the legion, trapped under a burning boulder, saw him take out his sword to hack away the limb which couldn’t be saved. He felt his need to survive, felt the drive and single-minded determination shoot through him like an arrow. He gasped at what he felt – intelligence, fury, iron will, all things the man hid well beneath an appearance of the typical Roman decadence. Most of all, he felt a spirit which called out to his own.

The future wasn’t set. It couldn’t be.

Ever since his visions started when he was a little boy, crying in terror into his sister’s tunic, Jim reverently believed that fate could be changed, actively fought against it, every vision giving him something new to rebel against. It was hard to tell if he succeeded, whether one outcome was better than the other.

Jim was ready well before the dawn, when the catastrophe was nothing more than wrinkles on the water surface and a deep low rumble within the ground. He was at the gates of the house at sunrise, asking after Damelza.

He handed his entire earnings from last night when she appeared and lied that he was taking her to the market as it was her birthday. She knew instantly of course that it was just a pretext.

“Jim?”

“Later,” he told her, “for now just – If something happens, if we get separated, get out of the city. Get as far away as you can.”

“They will search for me. You know that Dominus won’t let me go.”

“No,” he replied calmly, “they won’t.”

His sister was a slave still, but it wouldn’t matter for much longer. They were born like that and lived most of their lives under the same roof, where Jim was kept as entertainment for their master, while Damelza worked in the kitchens. They made him fuck her several times, but even that couldn’t break their bond. He focussed on her striking, fiery beauty and made it good for her, as good as he knew how, and always made sure to pull out to lessen a chance of a child. They talked about it, later, in halted half-sentences, through the tears, and they worked through it.

Then, ever since Jim out-did himself servicing a wealthy patron at one of the feasts, securing a valuable contract for his master and was freed, he had only two aims left. One was to make enough money to buy Damelza’s freedom; the other one was to kill the man who had done this to them.

Wishes one and two would be granted before the day was over, but now there was a third wish: he wanted Ross.

Jim saw the caravan ride into the city, made it his business to know of any influential people entering Pompeii and even more so to be there when they invariably wanted to fuck. It had paid off in the past and Jim slowly built his network of connections and favours owed. It would no doubt continue to pay off into the future, if not for the Gods deciding to let him know that his city was fucked and the one thing he wanted to take out of it with him was his most recent client.

It turned out that Jim’s savings could only buy them a small cart and an old mare, but it would have to do. They needed to go, right now, before they got trapped in the city, like Ross in his vision.

He wasn’t particularly worried about seeking his Roman out; things had a way of… working themselves out. Damelza on the other hand knew better than to question him when he was like that, tight-lipped and fighting what he had seen.

Instead, as the first proper tremors shook the buildings, they focused on practicalities: stealing two simple linen shawls to wrap around their heads, mounting the cart and heading for one of the smaller, eastern gates.

 

* * *

 

It was fate that crossed their paths, but Ross couldn’t have known it back then.

He’d just taken a piss in a side alley and was about to go back to his escort, when a cart nearly ran him over.

“The fuck –“ he started, then stopped, startled by the familiar blue eyes “- you!”

“Get on the cart,” the whore hissed and made to grab for his toga, but Ross was faster.

“Like hell!” he spat, eyes narrowing.

“We don’t have time for this,” the blond snarled. “If you want to live, you need to come with us.”

The pragmatist in Ross knew there was only one possible response to the abduction attempt on a Roman official, no matter how much the whore had impressed him before. “Legionnaire –“ a shout started in his throat but died down as something heavy hit the back of his head.

He didn’t see Jim’s grim, determined face as he hopped off the cart and crouched over Ross’ prone body.

“Help me load him up,” Jim asked and for the up-tenth time that day cursed his fate.

 

* * *

 


End file.
